


I took the stars from your eyes and made a map

by larienelengasse



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-17 01:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1368661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larienelengasse/pseuds/larienelengasse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love grows over time; sometimes it takes an age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I took the stars from your eyes and made a map

**Author's Note:**

  * For [keiliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiliss/gifts).



> Written for Keiliss for the LotR Secret Santa fiction exchange. The prompt included: “Glorfindel/elf of choice (NOT Ecthelion or Elrond), starlight, scents of jasmine and the sea, the beginning (or end) of a quest. Second or third age preferred. I'd like slash, though friendship with slashy hints is cool too. Just follow where they lead.” Title adapted from the song, Cosmic Love, by Florence and the Machine.

Lindon, Second Age, 1693.

Erestor frowned as he regarded the fair elf kneeling before his Lord. Elrond was skeptical as ever, but that was the peredhel’s duty to his King, Gil-Galad – and it wasn’t so long ago that another fair elf had presented himself to the King and to Elrond and that had not turned out well for any involved. Erestor and Elrond knew from experience that appearances could oft be deceiving.

It wasn’t every day that a hero from the First Age was reincarnated and returned to Middle Earth. In fact, it had never happened before. Glorfindel looked exactly the same as Erestor remembered – the same golden locks, the same large eyes that were the unusual color of the summer sky, the same leanly muscled form that he had often fantasized about when he was but a youth coming of age. 

Of course Erestor was grown now, and he had put fantasies aside in favor of something more meaningful and tangible, like his relationship with Lindir. Lindir also regarded the elf with careful consideration. One of his lover’s fair eyebrows was arched and Erestor’s mouth quirked upward briefly before he schooled his expression to one more fitting the occasion. He could read his beloved as easily as one the tomes that filled the shelves of Elrond’s library. Lindir knew of Erestor’s former fascination with Glorfindel of Gondolin, as they had discussed it when Lindir asked him if he had known the famous warrior. Now Erestor imagined that Lindir was busying himself discerning just what it was his lover had seen in the warrior during those days. Erestor thought it should be obvious.

An almost imperceptible gasp came from over his shoulder and he cast a quick look back to see Gildor standing behind him. The ranger was late to the party, as usual, having snuck in through a back door. Though Erestor had to admit that Gildor was always there when needed and he was never late to a fight.

“Rise, Glorfindel,” Elrond said. “You were sent by Manwë Súlimo?”

Glorfindel stood slowly, still adjusting to being housed in a body rather than floating upon the air in the Halls of Mandos. The last of him to rise was his head, his bright eyes finding Elrond’s own.

“Yes, my Lord. He tasked me with this duty.”

“Does it not make more sense for you to serve Gil-Galad? He has succeeded your fallen King.”

Glorfindel’s jaw tightened at the mention of his destroyed homeland and his murdered King. It was all still so fresh to him. “His Highness sent me to you, not to the High King.”

And what duty would it be that the Lord of the West would have you do?” Erestor queried, stepping forward to stand next to where Elrond was seated. He felt Gildor move closer as well.

“To follow where my Lord Elrond leads, to protect him and his family . . . to serve.” Glorfindel’s gaze narrowed for a moment as he answered, and Erestor wondered if it was resentment or some spark of recognition that he saw in the golden elf’s eyes.

“What does the great Manwë care of me?” Elrond asked. There was no resentment or rebellion in his question. He simply could not understand why Manwë should care about him so much.

“His wisdom is not for me to question,” Glorfindel responded, once again lowering his gaze in respect. “I did not ask why. I merely obeyed.” 

“Well,” Elrond said, rising from his chair, “I never refuse the service of one who offers so freely, and to have come from the Halls of Mandos to do such . . . it would hardly be fitting for me to turn you away. Though it is I who is in your debt.”

“My lord?” Glorfindel queried.

“If not for you, I would not be standing here now. You saved the lives of my grandparents, and of my father.” He cocked his head. “Do you not know of the role you played?”

Lindir leaned in to whisper in Erestor’s ear, “He knows nothing of what happened after he fell…”

Erestor nodded in agreement as it seemed clear this was the case. Apparently the Lord of the Dead did not see fit to tell the warrior of those he saved.

“I…” Glorfindel found his voice failed him, so he merely shook his head.

Elrond frowned and then he looked over his shoulder. “Gildor, be so kind as to find lodgings for the newest member of our regiment. We ride to Eregion in a fortnight. See that he is properly equipped and briefed on what we might face.” 

“Yes, my lord,” Gildor answered. He looked expectedly at Glorfindel.

Upon hearing Gildor’s name, Glorfindel’s gaze darted upward and searched the small group of elves that stood near Elrond. Gildor was well to the back, but Glorfindel found him nonetheless. Gildor saw the flash of recognition and he smiled at it. This was one elf he was indeed happy to see once again.

Elrond looked to Erestor. “And in the meantime, see to it that he knows all he should know, past and present.” 

Erestor nodded in acknowledgement. 

Elrond took a step away, and then paused and placed his hand on Glorfindel’s shoulder. He had to look up slightly to meet the Eldar’s gaze. Glorfindel truly had the bearing of the Eldar – he was taller than Elrond himself by almost a head, broad of shoulder, leanly muscled, and there was the most curious mixture of wisdom, weariness, and youthful optimism in his eyes. “Welcome, Glorfindel. I look forward to knowing you better. I have no doubt you will serve me as well as you served the King of Gondolin.” Glorfindel bowed his head in response and Elrond smiled slightly before continuing, “I suspect that you will become as important to me as Erestor is.” He winked at Erestor and left the reception room.

Glorfindel followed Elrond with his eyes until the elf lord disappeared around a corner. He then looked to the raven-haired elf that had been staring at him since he entered the room, the one who had asked the nature of his duty. “Pray tell me, who is Erestor?”

“You are looking at him,” Erestor responded.

Glorfindel smiled in recognition. “I see it now.”

“See what?”

“I once knew a youth named Erestor. You have his face. You are from Gondolin, are you not?”

“I am.” 

“Then you are he. I am glad to see that you live still and did not fall with so many of our kin. And what duty do you do for Lord Elrond?”

“I am his adviser. I am also one of his captains.”

“A scholar and a warrior,” Glorfindel remarked with a slight smile. “I must say I am not surprised by either. The Erestor I remember started out wanting to be an Eagle. He was single-minded if anything. You have come into adulthood strong and wise. Your mother would be proud.”

Erestor swallowed at the mention of his long dead mother, it was the only sign of a crack in his demeanor. “You do remember me, then.”

“Indeed, you, and your mother and father. Your mother made the most wonderful quince pies, and your father was an excellent tailor. You used to follow me through the streets as a youth. I remember teaching you to wield a blade and use a bow.”

Erestor smiled a bit at the memory. “I am glad to see your memories are intact, Lord Glorfindel. I am also proud to welcome you to our company.”

Glorfindel bowed his head slightly. “I see another I know from days long gone.”

Gildor moved forward to stand next to Erestor. “I wager your memories of me are not quite so pleasant.”

“Just because the times we spent together were . . . violent, does not mean I do not remember you fondly. I have known few as brave and steadfast as you, my old friend.”

Glorfindel reached out and clasped Gildor’s shoulders and squeezed them. 

Gildor embraced him in return. “It pleases me beyond words to see you again,” he said quietly. He drew back, but kept his hands on Glorfindel’s arms. “Come, you shall room with me. I have plenty of space and we have much to tell one another.”

“We shall all meet at the feast this evening,” Erestor said. “I shall avail you of the details of our journey to Eregion.”

Glorfindel nodded to Erestor as he allowed Gildor to lead him from the reception room toward the barracks.

* * * *

“This city is well fortified,” Glorfindel said as he walked the wide pathways with Gildor.

“As well as a city can be built,” Gildor said. “Melkor may be defeated, but his minions remain.”

“The Dark Lord chief among them,” Glorfindel answered, his voice dropping lower and quieter so that those they passed would not hear him.

“A fair elf came to this city not long ago, bringing gifts for the king and Lord Elrond.”

Glorfindel frowned and looked at Gildor, reaching out and clasping his arm, bringing him to a halt. “What became of him?”

“At Lord Elrond’s bidding, the King turned him away.”

“What lead Lord Elrond to advise such?”

Gildor shook his head. “I cannot say. He counseled the King that there was something not quite right about the visitor.”

Glorfindel nodded. “He is wise indeed.”

“Why say you?”

“I have heard whispers upon the wind of a dark power that rises in the east. In the Grey Havens, I heard stories of evil men and orcs venturing further and further into the West. Something makes them bold; some dark force gives them power.” He leaned closer. “Lord Círdan bid me make haste. He told me of one who calls himself Annatar, who feigns friendship and is anything but a friend. He told me that war is coming and that I would be needed. I knew not if this were true or if it was rumors being told enough that people take them as truth.”

Gildor frowned and nodded, his mouth was set in a grim line. “I fear he speaks true. I often ride far from our lands, seeking information to bring home of what transpires beyond our borders. Dark things are happening in Eregion. I fear that Celebrimbor is in grave danger. The King has commanded that Lord Elrond take a regiment into the east and find the truth of this Annatar and the rumors we hear from those lands.”

“Then that is why I have been sent.” He placed his hand on Gildor’s arm. “You must see that I am assigned to Lord Elrond’s guard. I must remain at his side; I must ensure his safety. He has to survive this, Gildor.”

“You think we are going to war.”

“I feel it in my bones and in my blood.”

Gildor nodded grimly. “Then we go to war together, old friend. Just like in the old days.”

“Though let us hope that these days are not as dark as those.”

Gildor clasped Glorfindel’s shoulder. “The host of Sauron will flee before you, Glorfindel. They will see the light that burns bright from within you and they will run from it.”

Glorfindel smiled a little sadly. “I hope you are right, my friend. But, I fear that light shines brighter for you than for others.”

“Have you not seen the way you are regarded as you pass? Indeed, it is why I came to Lord Elrond’s chambers when you arrived. I heard talk that the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower walked the streets of our city. Some thought they saw a ghost; others thought you were translated to the Maiar. But, when I beheld you kneeling there, I knew. I knew you were back and never have I been so happy to see anyone in my long life.”

Glorfindel smiled warmly and placed his hands on the sides of Gildor’s head. “I have missed you, Gildor. You have always been over kind to me.”

Gildor embraced Glorfindel. “Not true, my friend. Not true. We have stood together upon the Grinding Ice, faced orc hoards and warg packs, and gazed upon the stars. We have seen the world in all of its beauty and terror, together. If I am to go to war again, I would have you at my side.”

Glorfindel tightened his grip on Gildor. “I am and have always been grateful for you, Gildor.”

Gildor pressed a kiss to the side of the warrior’s head. “No more than I have been of you, Glorfindel. Now, come,” he said as he released his friend. “let us see your belongings stowed. You will need to be fitted with armor. Do you have weaponry?”

Glorfindel patted the sword that was wrapped in leather and strapped to his pack. “Made by Aulë himself.”

Gildor smiled broadly. “You will be the envy of our ranks.”

Glorfindel shook his head and grinned. “Enough of your kind words lest my head grow too large for my body. I would have wine before dinner.”

Gildor leaned in and spoke quietly. “That, my friend, I have in abundance.”

Glorfindel laughed. “You have not changed so much.”

“Some would say not at all,” Gildor answered with a wink. He headed toward his quarters with Glorfindel following close behind.

* * * *

“You believe we will be riding to all out war, then?” Erestor asked, placing his goblet on the table.

“I do,” Glorfindel answered. “Gildor tells me of Annatar, who sought entrance to this city. It is said that the Dark Lord has learned to affect a pleasant visage in order to deceive those he would see dead, or worse.”

“Worse?” Lindir asked.

“Aye, Master Lindir,” Glorfindel replied. “There are things worse than death.”

“Such as?” Lindir responded.

“Enslavement,” Glorfindel answered matter-of-factly. “Maeglin learned that lesson before the fall of my homeland.”

Lindir swallowed as a tremor coursed through him at the thought of it. Erestor’s comforting hand on his shoulder returned him to the matter at hand.

“How many will we be riding with?” Glorfindel asked.

“Some five hundred,” Gildor answered.

Glorfindel turned in his chair to look at his friend. “That is far too few to face the host of Sauron,” he said worriedly.

“You truly believe we will find an entire army of the Dark Lord’s making?” Erestor asked.

“When did you last receive word from Ost-in-Edhil?” Gildor queried.

Erestor’s expression grew grim. “Too long ago.”

“Ost-in-Edhil?” Glorfindel asked.

“It is the home of the Smiths of Eregion. Celebrimbor is its ruler. Annatar said he had come from there.” Erestor replied.

“We may already be too late to save them,” Glorfindel said grimly.

“Let us hope we are not, my friend.” Gildor answered.

“Am I to understand, Glorfindel, that you have no knowledge of what transpired in the years after your fall?” Erestor asked.

“I am afraid not. I have assumed that our city fell to Melkor’s minions.”

Erestor nodded sadly. “Yes, that is true. But there is a tale of hope that springs from that darkness.”

“I would know of it,” Glorfindel said.

Erestor sat back in the tall chair and crossed his legs after picking up his goblet of wine. “Settle in, Glorfindel. It is a long story.”

* * * *

The days passed quickly as the host of Lindon prepared to go to war. Glorfindel trained with both Gildor and Erestor, reminding his body of its purpose. He learned the names and ranks of almost all of Elrond’s officers and participated in preparing a battle strategy based on the intelligence that Gildor and his fellow rangers had gathered.

As Glorfindel stood on a high balcony he gazed up at the full moon. Ithil shown brightly that night casting a cool, white light upon the city and the stars above resembled glittering jewels against a black-blue velvet tapestry. Inside, behind him, the warriors drank and reveled, enjoying their last night of peace and safety before taking to the open road and riding to Eregion. He could hear Lindir’s voice rising clearly above the din of goblets connecting, laughter, and the occasional joyful shout. The minstrel had a lovely voice, as beautiful as any Glorfindel had ever heard. He knew of the relationship between Erestor and Lindir, and he approved. Erestor needed one lighter of heart to temper his oft-serious nature.

Footsteps so quiet that only he could have heard them announced his companion’s presence. Few could move as quietly as Gildor could, which is what made him such an exceptional scout, Glorfindel supposed.

“The air smells beautiful tonight,” Gildor said quietly as he stepped up to stand beside Glorfindel.

“Aye. The brine from the sea mingles with jasmine that grows just there and there,” he said pointing to each side of the open doors.

“It is an intoxicating mixture,” Gildor said softly. “It brings to mind both this home and the next.”

“The next?” Glorfindel asked.

“Aman. One day, we shall all sail. Those of us that are left to do so, at any rate.”

“Yes. I barely remember it. ‘Twas so long ago that we lived there.”

“A lifetime ago, it seems.”

“Or two, in my case,” Glorfindel said with a little grin.

Gildor huffed out a soft laugh. “True. I am glad you are back, in case I haven’t mentioned it lately.”

“Oh, not in the last few hours,” Glorfindel said, still grinning. He took a deep breath, drawing the scents of the ocean and the jasmine into his lungs then slowly expelling them. “I was not sure how it would feel to walk Middle Earth again. I worried if anyone I knew lived still, or if I would be alone surrounded by strangers.”

“You are not alone, Glorfindel,” Gildor said softly. “You never will be.”

Gildor had stepped in behind him and Glorfindel gladly leaned back into the warrior’s warmth.

“Do you remember the Grinding Ice?”

“How could I forget it?” Gildor responded, as he wrapped his arms around Glorfindel’s waist.

“Never in my life had I felt cold until then. I trembled so hard in my bedroll at night, until you came to share your warmth.”

“You mean partake of yours. I was just as cold as you were.”

Glorfindel laughed softly. “Aye, your nose was like an icicle against the back of my neck.”

“I buried my face in that unruly mane of yours and just breathed. It was so cold that it hurt to breathe, remember?”

“I do.”

“When I breathed into the nape of your neck, it didn’t hurt any longer. Despite the cold and your shivering, you were warm to the touch. Your hair was . . .” Gildor nuzzled the back of Glorfindel’s head, “…is still, so soft. It looks so wild from time to time that the softness never ceases to surprise me.”

Glorfindel laid his hands on Gildor’s arms. “I am glad you are here, Gildor. I can think of no one better to share my new life with.”

Gildor rested his chin on Glorfindel’s shoulder. “Will you? Share it with me, I mean. I know we are friends, but for my part we have been circling on the edge of being something more for what feels like an eternity.”

“We were both bound by duty and served two different masters. Yours took you to the Pass of Sirion, mine to Gondolin.”

“But now we are both bound by duty to the same master, Lord Elrond.”

Glorfindel smiled. “Yes, this is true.”

“So, will you?”

Glorfindel turned in Gildor’s embrace. He cupped the warrior’s jaw, caressing Gildor’s cheekbone with his thumb. “I would be honored, Gildor Inglorion.”

Gildor smiled and leaned forward. His lips softly grazed Glorfindel’s in a dry kiss. Glorfindel licked his lips and leaned in, a soft murmur of approval escaping him as he made full contact with Gildor’s mouth.

Gildor answered with a quiet moan, then he opened his mouth and threaded his fingers into Glorfindel’s hair. 

Glorfindel’s hands slid from Gildor’s face, following the path of his throat to his shoulders, fingers sliding over brocade and velvet, moving to Gildor’s sides and hips before pulling Gildor flush to him. 

He moved from Gildor’s mouth to his ear. He could hear the ranger’s breath beginning to grow labored, feel the way Gildor sought to deepen their contact, his long fingers reaching to clasp Glorfindel’s neck. 

“I thought of you often when lying in my bed in Gondolin,” he whispered huskily. “I wondered if we were looking at the same stars at the same time. I remembered what your hair looked like when kissed by minuial’s pale light. I believe I have always loved you Gildor. I believe it is why I never took a lover in Gondolin.”

Gildor pulled Glorfindel as close as he could, clinging to him tightly. “You have always been beloved, Glorfindel. Did Erestor tell you that golden flowers sprung from the cairn of your gravesite? Did he tell you that your people mourned your death for over a thousand years, singing songs of your sacrifice on each anniversary of your death? Your people’s love for you is profound and eternal, and for all that it is, it is nothing compared to the love I bear you. You are my sun and moon, my earth and sky, the air I breathe and the water I drink. You have returned my heart from its long slumber. There is nothing I would not do for you, Glorfindel. There is nothing I would not give you.”

Glorfindel drew back and gently clasped Gildor’s head in his hands. He tipped the ranger’s chin back with his thumbs, moving his mouth to the long column of Gildor’s throat, humming in pleasure at the deep rumbling moans that came from his lover. He worked his way up to Gildor’s mouth, pausing to murmur, “And I will take all you have to give and give you all of me in return. I am yours, Gildor Inglorion; and you are mine.”

He pressed a deep kiss to Gildor’s mouth, sweeping deep with his tongue and moaning as he felt his lover’s hands clasp his backside. “Come,” he whispered roughly as he withdrew, holding onto Gildor’s hand. “‘Tis high time I finally saw you naked.”

Gildor smiled broadly. “You first,” he said, then pulled Glorfindel behind him as they made their way toward their shared quarters.

* * * *

Gildor stared at Glorfindel. The warrior sat in the middle of Gildor’s bed, sheets pooled around his waist, naked as the day he was born. He had never seen Glorfindel nude before and he was torn between staring at him for a while and adding his hands and mouth to his eyes’ perusal. He had always thought Glorfindel to be beautiful and strong, the light within him shining never brighter than it did as he sat in the middle of his bed. Perhaps it was because he was newly reborn, or perhaps it was because they were both in love – the answer didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they were both here, now.

Gildor too was naked and he felt Glorfindel’s keenly interested gaze as it raked over his nude form. Neither of them was an untried youth. They had both experimented with lovers before leaving Aman as young soldiers. But neither had taken one after they had been parted. Gildor could not bring himself to after Glorfindel’s death. He had been too heart broken, too empty to do naught but throw himself into his duty. He would wager that there wasn’t a road or footpath in Beleriand that he had not travelled upon, hoping that each step he took would dampen his grief, but his footsteps never did.

In one moment in Elrond’s quarters that grief had been drowned when his eyes had lit upon Glorfindel kneeling upon the floor. What had once seemed impossible was now possible. The love of his life, his best friend, sat in his bed, naked and waiting for him. He crawled onto the bed, following Glorfindel as his lover lay back.

“Do you remember what to do?” he teased gently.

“Like riding a horse,” Glorfindel answered.

“Good. Not that I would mind teaching you.”

“Oh, I may be the one that teaches you a thing or two.”

Gildor lowered himself until their bodies were pressed flush together. He propped himself up on his elbows. “I look forward to my lessons,” he murmured, then he kissed his lover soundly. His mouth forged a path from Glorfindel’s lips to his jaw, then his throat, moving ever lower, to shoulders, chest, abdomen, chasing his navel as it flinched away, to hipbone, thigh, knee, then back upward to the place that Glorfindel begged for. 

He took his time, savoring the weight of him on his tongue, breathing in the musky scent of his sex, enjoying the warm, silken glide of his shaft upon his lips before finally swallowing him down in inches.

Glorfindel growled and fisted the bed sheets, trying to resist the urge to buck up into Gildor’s mouth. A litany of curses slipped from his lips, woven with urgent words of need and desire and love. When Gildor finally finished him off, his body tingled from head to toe, warmth spreading from his core all the way to his fingertips, toes, and the tips of his ears. He smiled as he opened his eyes, his bright blue meeting Gildor’s ethereal deep sea green.

“I love you, you know.”

Gildor smiled and nuzzled his lover’s mouth. Glorfindel could taste himself upon Gildor’s lips. 

“I do know,” Gildor said gently. “But, I could stand to be shown.”

Glorfindel smiled wickedly. “Give me just a moment, love. I need to recover.”

Gildor draped himself over Glorfindel and gave his lover’s hip a gentle nudge with his arousal. “All right, but just a moment.”

Glorfindel laughed huskily and threaded his hands into Gildor’s long pale locks. “I am so glad that you are here.”

Gildor nuzzled his lover’s throat as his long fingers drew aimless patterns upon the sweat-beaded skin of Glorfindel’s abdomen. “That makes two of us.”

Glorfindel flipped his lover to his back and hovered over him. “Shall I show you how glad?”

“Mmm, yes. Please,” Gildor answered with a smile.

Gildor couldn’t decide whether to curse, pray, beg, or all three as Glorfindel tormented him. When he finally received the warm, wet embrace of his lover’s mouth he did indeed do all three. When Glorfindel brought him to completion he thanked Eru and the entire host of the Valar for returning Glorfindel to him.

* * * *

Gildor blinked sleepily as his fingers drew lazy patterns on Glorfindel’s back. He listened to the rhythmic breathing of his beloved, felt the strong, steady thump of his heart and the warmth of his body seeping into his own. Anor was beginning to rise and she cast a warm, golden light upon the floor of his bedchamber. They were due to mount horse and ride in mere hours, but Gildor couldn’t bring himself to wake Glorfindel. He had not slept, preferring to lay awake and savor this quiet time in his warm bed with the love of his life in his arms.

Outside, the city began to stir: the sounds of the market coming to life as merchants prepared their goods; the armory being opened and the clatter of horses’ steel shoes on the cobbled roads as the supply wagons were loaded; the voices of children as they prepared to go to school. It was the last time he may hear these exact sounds, as there was no knowing if they would ever return.

Glorfindel murmured something as he began to wake, slowly stretching his long limbs and pressing closer to Gildor. Gildor placed a kiss on the crown of Glorfindel’s golden head. 

“Can it not be night just a while longer?” Glorfindel murmured into his shoulder.

“Shall I chase Anor away, bring Ithil back?”

“Mmm, yes. That would be nice.”

Gildor chuckled. “We should rise and dress. We have much to do and little time to do it in.”

“Oh, if you insist,” Glorfindel murmured, finally lifting his head and smiling at Gildor. “How long do you think it will be before we get to wake up like this again?”

“I suppose that depends upon what we find in Eregion.”

Glorfindel frowned a bit and nodded. “Yes. Well, this does not mean that we shall forgo paying proper attention to one another. We will just have to find privacy.”

Gildor tucked Glorfindel’s hair behind his ears. “That we will, my love.”

~Finis


End file.
